Pete (The Cowboys) (34 page)

She wouldn’t let herself feel guilty. She had to escape.

“I’m going to make a shelter of pine branches,” Pete said. “It won’t keep us warm, but it’ll keep the snow and wind away.”

She watched, fascinated, as he fitted the trunk of a fallen tree between two other trees to serve as the ridge pole of his shelter. Then he cut dozens of limbs from the trees and wove them together to create a slanting roof. When he finished, it looked very much like a large green tent.

“I’ll make your bed,” Pete offered.

“I can do that.” She had to do something. She hated feeling useless.

“We don’t have much to cover you with, just the blankets in the bedroll.”

“I’ll be warm enough.” She didn’t know why she had to sound ungrateful. Maybe it was guilt that it was her fault they’d both be cold. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“Right next to you.”

It relieved her to know he wouldn’t be far away. It unsettled her that he would be so close.

“Don’t take off any clothes,” he said. “You’ll need everything to keep warm.”

She hadn’t thought of that.

“How will you keep the fire going all night?” she asked.

“We won’t need to do that.”

“But what if some animal…” She didn’t want to finish the sentence. She didn’t even want to hear herself voice her fears.

“The horses will let us know if there’s anything around.”

After the misery they had inflicted on her, she didn’t know if she wanted to entrust her safety to the horses.

“Are you coming to bed now?”

“No. I’ll tend the fire a little longer.”

He didn’t have to watch the fire. He couldn’t start a forest fire in this storm. He was giving her time to get to sleep before he came in. She didn’t know why she should be surprised. He’d always been thoughtful. He wouldn’t have insisted they sleep in the same bed if Belser hadn’t accused him of being an imposter. Even then, he hadn’t taken advantage of her. In fact, he’d made every effort to make sure nothing happened between them. If they hadn’t both gotten carried away that evening by the stream, she’d still be a virgin.

She had to stop thinking about his good qualities. If she didn’t, she’d soon be unable to believe he’d killed Peter and Belser.

He didn’t. He’s not a killer.

She drove that thought from her mind. If she believed it, everything would be upside down. She wouldn’t know what to do then.

She crawled inside the shelter. She had few hopes the bedroll, which was made up of a large piece of canvas and two blankets, would do much to cushion the thick bed of pine needles. She spread the canvas over the pine needles and wrapped herself in one of the blankets. It wasn’t enough to keep her warm, but she couldn’t take the second blanket. Pete might be a killer. He definitely had brought her out here against her will, but he had tried to take good care of her. She couldn’t deprive him of the only blanket left. She’d just have to be cold.

Anne awoke because she was shivering too hard to stay asleep. She had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering. She’d never been so cold in her life. She didn’t seem to have any clothes on or a blanket wrapped around her. She felt as though she’d been laid naked on a sheet of ice. She drew her body into a tight ball, but that didn’t help. She could hardly feel her feet. She wondered if she was getting frostbite. The possibility of losing her toes frightened her. She reached down to massage her calves and ankles, hoping it would encourage the blood to flow into her toes, but it didn’t seem to help.

“Are you cold?”

The unexpected sound of Pete’s voice frightened a small scream out of her.

“No,” she lied. “I’m just trying to get more comfortable.”

“I know you’re cold because I am,” he said. “Here, take my blanket.”

“No. Then you’ll freeze to death, and I’ll never get out of this godforsaken place.”

He chuckled. She didn’t see how he could laugh. There wasn’t anything remotely funny about their situation.

“I survived much colder winters in Montana.”

“I don’t think it can get any colder.” She tried, but she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering.

“You’re freezing,” Pete said.

“Yes, I am. But there’s nothing we can do about it, so there’s no point in reminding me of it.”

“Yes, there is.”

“I respectfully decline to be roasted over a fire, no matter how small.”

He laughed again. The man was insane. Maybe killers thought weird things were funny. After all, they couldn’t be normal if they went around killing people.

“I wasn’t going to suggest building a fire under you.”

“I don’t want you to build one in here, either. You’ll catch the roof on fire, and I’ll still roast to death.”

She couldn’t blame him for laughing. She sounded remarkably silly. She wondered whether it was the effect of the freezing cold.

“I wasn’t going to burn the shelter down over our heads. We should sleep together and share our body heat.”

“No.”

She didn’t want him that close to her. She wouldn’t remember she was supposed to hate him, to be afraid of him.

“You don’t have to be afraid I’m going to try to take advantage of you. I like my women to be willing, not clawing my face.”

She’d been willing that night by the creek. She’d practically forced him to make love to her.

“I don’t think we should—”

“This is no time for false modesty.” He tossed his blanket over her and moved closer. “Back up against me,” he said.

She hesitated for only a moment. He was right. Who could think of sex when Mother Nature was threatening to turn them into blocks of ice?

Apparently she could. That was all she thought about from the moment she realized they weren’t going to sleep back to back. Pete had pulled her to him, his arm around her middle just below her breasts, her derriere snuggled up against his groin. Clearly Pete knew what he was doing. Her temperature jumped at least ten degrees in half that many seconds.

She wondered how many times he’d done this before. With whom? If he had half the money he said he did, he could get just about any woman he wanted.

Now why should that thought make her envious? She couldn’t possibly be jealous of some soiled dove who would hop into bed with any man who had the price. She didn’t know any such women, but they couldn’t be very pretty. Or nice. That was stupid. Being pretty and nice would enable them to command an even higher price. The prettier and nicer, the more men who’d want to spend time with them.

She wondered if they ever liked any of the men they met, if they regretted that one special man didn’t want them to give it all up just for him. She guessed they couldn’t afford to feel that way. It would be bad for business.

Anne was appalled at the thoughts running through her head. She couldn’t understand what had gotten into her. She wasn’t like those women. She didn’t have any idea what they were like, what they would feel, what they would want.

Or had she begun to wonder if she wasn’t like them after all, at least a little bit, somewhere down deep inside where it didn’t show? She was nestled in the arms of the man who’d killed her husband and she didn’t want him to let her go. She couldn’t stop herself from remembering the night he made love to her. Nor could she stop herself from wanting him to do it again.

She had to have the heart of a soiled dove. No other kind of woman could feel this way. She made up her mind to sleep by herself and freeze to death. At least then she wouldn’t be torn apart by the battle going on between her heart and body and her mind.

Then he kissed the back of her neck.

Her temperature shot up five more degrees, and she forgot all about freezing to death.

“Don’t,” she said. She didn’t mean it, but she managed to say it.

“I can’t hold you in my arms and not kiss you.”

“Then let me go.” She didn’t mean that either.

“I can’t.”

“You must.” She didn’t know why she kept telling him to do things she didn’t want him to do. He lifted her hair and kept kissing the back of her neck. He apparently knew better than she what she wanted him to do. “You’ve got to stop.”

“It’s keeping me warm. How about you?”

She couldn’t deny that she didn’t feel the least bit cold now. Even her toes seemed to be safe from frostbite.

“I’m warm enough.”

“I’m not.” His hand moved up to cup her breast. “Are my hands too cold?”

It was impossible to tell anything about his hand through the several layers of her clothing, but she had no doubt about its effect on her body. Her temperature spiked a few more degrees.

“Turn to face me,” Pete whispered.

“No.” To do so would be tantamount to surrender.

“I love you.”

She stiffened. She hadn’t heard him right. She couldn’t have.

“I said I love you.”

She didn’t want him to love her. It would force her to admit she still loved him. If she did, she couldn’t keep on believing he was a liar and a murderer.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

She shook her head.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with you. I’m not the marrying kind. Seeing how things have turned out, I guess it’s just as well.”

It wasn’t just as well. It was cruel. No woman should be allowed to find the one man she could love only to be told she couldn’t have him.

“Loving you sneaked up on me. You were so anxious to be loved, so grateful for any attention, I couldn’t stop doing things to put a smile on your face. Then suddenly you turned into a whole different person. You weren’t a scared little girl anymore. You were a woman, ready and able to fight for your man. You might have been afraid, but you faced down anybody who threatened me. I think I fell in love with you when you refused to let anyone read the letters you wrote to Peter. I didn’t know it until you followed me to the roundup. I had vowed I would leave without touching you, but I couldn’t stop myself. I’m not sorry for anything else I’ve done, but I am ashamed of that.”

She wasn’t ashamed. It was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.

“I couldn’t let you go to Bill Mason. I know you don’t trust me, don’t believe anything I say, but you’ve got to believe I love you too much to let anyone hurt you. I can’t leave until I know you’re safe in Big Bend. I know you don’t love me anymore, but I’ll never stop loving you.”

“I do love you.” She spoke the words so softly, she wasn’t certain she’d actually said them.

“What did you say?”

Why not say it? It was impossible. It would be over soon. Confess it, give in to it. Maybe then she would find some way to put her life together after he had gone. “I said I love you. I shouldn’t, I don’t want to, but I do.”

Before she knew what he was going to do, he climbed across her body. Her back felt chilled by the sudden absence of his warmth, but the rest of her more than compensated when he pulled her so close that she felt her breasts pressed up against his chest, felt his swollen groin against her body. She knew she ought to move, but her body rebelled. She knew she ought to protest, but he took her mouth in a greedy kiss.

All resistance collapsed.

She was ashamed to admit there hadn’t been much in the first place. He was still the most attractive man she’d ever met, the only man who could tap into this physical part of her that no one else had ever managed to touch. She didn’t know how he did it. Right now she didn’t care. She just cared that he did.

As for being a killer, no woman could believe the man in her arms could be evil. Not when his kisses, just his touch, could set her senses on fire.

Abandoning any attempt to justify what she was doing, she pressed herself against Pete and kissed him with a passion born of the raging conflict within her. It seemed to startle him, but only for a moment. Immediately their bodies were a tangle of intertwined legs and arms. He struggled to open her coat, her dress, to reach her breasts. She struggled to help him. She was no longer aware of the cold, of the howling wind and blowing snow, of their isolation in this distant stretch of forest. She had no room in her mind for anything but the man who was just as desperate to make love to her as she was that he should.

The feel of his lips on her breasts was like a benediction. She arched against him, wanting the sweet agony to become unbearable. She didn’t have time tonight for a slow buildup, for a thorough pleasuring of her body. Her desperate need demanded almost immediate satisfaction. She took his hand and moved it down her body. She moaned when he worked his way through the tangle of material to the warm flesh of her inner thigh. She whimpered when his fingers parted her flesh and entered her.

But that wasn’t enough. She had to have all of him, and she had to have him now.

“Please,” she said, “don’t make me wait.”

He didn’t. Despite the clothes bunched between them, the blankets tangled around them, he was soon inside her, driving her to the edge of madness. Suddenly she no longer feared the howling wind, the brutal cold, the majestic solitude of the forest. She felt a part of it. She welcomed the frenzy overtaking her body. She rushed toward it, embraced it, rejoiced in being consumed by it. When she felt her body would be destroyed, shattered into a million tiny bits, she willingly offered herself up for sacrifice.